


Unveiled

by merrymaya



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cersei is a bitch, Enemies to Friends, F/M, I promise, happy end
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-05 21:37:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20495738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merrymaya/pseuds/merrymaya
Summary: When Jaime meets Brienne of Tarth, she seems extremely boring. Even the disdain she shows him is pretty much the norm. He will quickly discover that there is more to her than he thinks and she will teach him an invaluable lesson:Still waters run deep and he may want to submerge himself into them more than he is willing to admit.





	1. First impressions

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Braime fanatics! (do not deny, we all are. lol... that's ok). I shouldn't do this to myself. I shouldn't begin another story when I already have one up but I cannot resist.
> 
> So here it is, my second story. It may surprise you but I certainly hope that it won't disappoint you. Just trust me when I tell you to be patient. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine of course. The show would have never finished like that if it was mine! The cover is ripped from the cover of a book that looks pretty much the same. So shameful copy...but I saw it and screamed 'That's it! That's my story in a nutshell!' So no regrets! The statue is not mine either lol
> 
> Thanks: To JailynnW first of all. How dreary life would be without our conversations about J&B. Thank you for being such an amazing person and an awesome writer. You are the best!
> 
> Thanks for all the people who reviewed and appreciated my first fic, **To owe you completely**. I'm of course not done yet with it. But I love pain so why not begin another one lol Hope you will enjoy this one too ^^

  


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Brienne grimaced. The smell of King’s Landing was overwhelming, the smell of thousands of bodies mixing with the smells of waste, fish, rot and the dirty waters of Blackwater Bay. Looking around, Brienne thought that if she could define this miasma of odors, she would call it human desperation.

Brienne never thought herself as lady-like. But the smells were overwhelming and she had a moment where nausea took her. She stopped breathing and closed her eyes, contracting her muscles until the feeling passed. When she was in control of her senses again, she opened her eyes and looked at her companion.

“I’m sorry Brienne, the smell takes some time to get used to. When we will be in the Red Keep, it will get better,” the man in armor said, sympathy evident in his eyes. She eyed the town with disbelief. They were both riding a horse_a cart with a servant and a few chests holding their belongings behind them_ facing the Lion Gate of King’s Landing. 

When she was a girl of nine, her father had left for King’s Landing to join King’s Robert celebrations of his victory against the Greyjoys. She had pleaded to be part of his journey, had cried even for she had wanted to see the royal tournament. He had refused, saying that he would have no time for her. He had come back with gifts and great stories about the capital but not all descriptions had been flattering. As a young girl, she had been sure that he had tried to dissuade her to go to the capital. She had doubted all the negative points of his tale.

Now, wiser and older at eight and ten, she agreed that everything he had said was true. The smell was unbearable and the idea that so many people agreed to live in this hell was unbelievable to her. Her island had never been so close to her heart than at that moment, with the miasma that was the capital sprawled in front of her eyes. Her eyes saw the beautiful Red Keep, the siege of the royal power, but she saw ten times more poverty. The castle seemed ugly when so many poor folks begged at its base. Brienne was not impressed. 

Her companion clicked his tongue and his horse began to trot towards the gate. She gave a nod to their servant on the cart and they followed the knight to the guard post. He gave the city guard a scroll. Upon inspection of the contents of the scroll, one of the city guards let them pass. Of course, she was not spared some disbelieving looks when they looked more closely at her.

She gripped the reins tighter, making her horse a little nervous and the other rider growled in anger at the guards. Realizing their faux-pas, they quickly apologized and looked down in contrition. She accepted their apologies with a heavy heart for she knew it would be the first time of many. They were quickly free to go after that incident. She would never have come but the scroll held a mandatory invitation. They had been invited by the King to celebrate his fifteen years of reign. Brienne may not care for the pomp of the celebration but she was excited about the royal tourney. She tried to concentrate on that feeling as they slowly made their way to the Red Keep.

  


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Brienne sighed heavily. They had fortunately gotten to the Red Keep early enough to get belongings in their rooms, rest a little and then demand a bathtub to clean themselves before supper. She enjoyed her time alone in her room to rest and build up her mental defenses. She had no doubt that the evening would be trying for her. She slowly approached her mirror.

She looked at her reflection. She also had to trade her breeches and tunic for Court’s apparel. The blue gown was something a gifted seamstress on Tarth had prepared for this occasion. It was well sown, the gown laced under her breasts then flaring to the ground. There were no necessary embellishments except for little moons and stars sewn on the hem and collar. She was pleased that the sleeves were long enough to cover her wrists and the hem masked her shoes. 

She still abhorred dresses but she couldn’t fault this one. This one at least tried to put her to her advantage. Just remembering the kind of dresses her Septa had put her in when she was young made her wince. The dresses had been plain but the cut had always been unflattering and the material uncomfortable. But it was not surprising. Her septa had been a mean woman and it was reflected in everything she did or said to Brienne. At least she wasn’t part of her life anymore. Thank the Seven for their small mercies.

It was less the gown’s fault that her own lack of charm. She was too tall, towering at six feet four, and her sword training had made her develop her muscles to the detriment of her feminine form. She will never regret training. She felt herself only when a sword was in her hand but she was reminded of all her incongruity when she wore a woman’s apparel. Her face was plain to not say ugly, with a broken nose and large lips and prominent teeth and lackluster blond straw-like hair. Her only appeal came from her large blue eyes which everybody admitted were quite beautiful. She had such little breasts that she had no bust to show off. The gown’s collar was at least modest leaving only a strip of naked skin below her collar bone.

It was not the case of the man entering her room. He looked dashing in his doublet of blue and pink, complete with embroidered suns and moons. Added to beige breeches of the softest velvet and his leather shoes, he was dressed like a handsome noble and she looked the fool. The only jewelry they both wore was a necklace with a pendant representing the Tarth Sigil. All blue and pink sapphires and gold, this was their most precious possession and the symbol of their House. 

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.” No, she wasn’t. Being laughed at and stared at by the whole Court was not something she relished but she had to present herself before the King and so she will.

“Do not worry. And do not mind the courtiers.” He had gotten closer and put his hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently and then tugged her simple braid playfully. “You are Brienne of Tarth and you are worth a thousand of them. Be proud of yourself. I’m proud of you.”

She looked at him and saw his face. He had always been honest with her, sometimes even to his own detriment but he wouldn’t lie to her. She smiled back and nodded. He thrust his arm in her direction with a charming smile and she put her arm around it, they then left her room to go to the Red Keep’s ballroom where the official presentations will be made. 

  


==================================

  


The room containing the Iron throne was gigantic and still seemed full to burst with people. Brienne’s eyes widened at the number of courtiers, noblemen and noblewomen, pages and squires circulating in the room. Already she felt sweat on her temples, the hot air coming from the room engulfing her. A considerable amount of people were presenting their respect to the King and they had a long way to go before they reached their turn. At least the nobles from the Stormlands were supposed to meet the King first, in deference to the King’s origins. She thanked the Warrior for that small favor, as she doubted that she could have waited hours just to bow and go away. 

House Baratheon in itself had an honorable number of vassals. She recognized some members of House Swann, House Trant, House Errol, House Estermont, House Grandison, House Peasebury, House Wylde and House Morrigen. 

It made for a considerable amount of people bowing to the King, each House presenting at least one delegate. Most brought more because the royal Court was the perfect place to be seen and obtain employment as squires or knights or even to obtain a husband. Her eyes passed over Ronnet Connington standing relatively near and she growled. “The cullion is here?” asked her companion in a nonchalant voice. She only growled again in confirmation and he laughed softly. In another group, she saw Lord Caron looking at her. She nodded at him and he nodded back, the ghost of a shy boy with a mole over his lip standing between them. Her life would have been different if this little boy had lived. 

She glanced at the Iron Throne to shake all the memories and her eyes fell on the King seated on the chair made _so the story says_ of a thousand swords melted together by Dragonfire. That so many people fought for such a painful-looking chair defied understanding. As she began to look at the royal couple, the nobles from the Stormlands were asked to step up the Throne to pay their respects to their King and liege. She felt a tug on her arm and she began to approach too.

The King himself looked merry, a cup of wine in his hand and a loud laugh on his lips as he talked with Jon Arryn. The Robert Baratheon sitting there was nowhere near the Robert Baratheon he had been when he had been crowned. He had cut an impressive figure with armor and helm, warhammer in hand. Or so said the stories and the paintings. Now she only sees a drunk fat man who laughs merrily when the smallfolk suffers.

Near him sat his wife, the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Queen Cersei Baratheon, nee Lannister was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. Her heart wept at seeing such a perfect woman. How was it possible to be born so lovely, as if forged in clay then given life by the Maiden herself. She could only lament at her own ill-fortune. She seemed ethereal, made to be the ruler of the land. 

At her side stood a man no less beautiful. Generally, even if only in her mind, Brienne would let herself admire beautiful men. It was maybe the only ‘feminine weakness’ she ever had. She grew up with stories of handsome knights slaying evil and saving princesses. This man could have been the knight of all these songs. Lustrous blond hair, stunning green eyes, with a perfect face and body, the queen’s brother was as beautiful as his twin. Brienne would have been taken by his beauty _if even for a while_ if he wasn’t also the ‘Kingslayer.’ She couldn’t help the frown on her face. The fact that Jaime Lannister slew his last charge but was still allowed to guard King Robert was something she couldn’t understand.

She must have been too obvious in her disapproval for he suddenly looked at her. They stared at each other and she refused to back down. He had surprised her but she was taller than most so it must have been obvious that she watched him. She blushed thinking that she had to be more careful and the oathbreaker smirked at her. Infuriated about his probable assumptions, as if she would admire this man even if he broke his vows, she glared at him and blatantly turned her head away. The King may choose to spend time with him but she didn’t have to.

After long moments where she felt his gaze on her, she saw that the nobles talking to the King bowed and moved aside. It was finally their turn to meet the King. The arm linked with hers moved forward and she followed. As her companion bowed she executed a curtsy. The arm touching hers permitted her not to wobble so the curtsy may not have been the best but not her worst either and she got back up, relieved that she didn’t botch this part of the ceremony. 

King Robert nodded and barked, “Welcome Lord Hyle and Lady Brienne of Tarth.” He squinted his eyes at them, “Why Ser, you took your wife’s name.” 

Hyle nodded with a charming smile. “The Tarth name is an old and respected one. It should live on even beyond us. I agreed to take the name as mine when I married my Lady. I was but a knight undeserving of her love but she gave me everything she had, even her name.” Hyle smiled at her and she had no choice but smile back even if the subject embarrassed her greatly.

The King guffawed loudly. “I bet she gave you everything, Lord Tarth.” Brienne felt her face grow hot at those words. She was still wondering how to react when the crowned man redeemed himself a little. Robert became serious. “I heard of your father passing. I had the chance of knowing Selwyn and he was a good man and a loyal vassal of mine. I deeply regret his death.” 

Brienne felt the pain of her father loss all over again. It had been nearly two years already but the hurt was still fresh. Her voice trembled on her first words. “Thank you, your grace. My father was the best of men and the best father someone could have.” She would have stopped here but she had still something to say. “The House of Tarth lost its better member but the rest of the House are still loyal to you. We will serve under House Baratheon and be the first line of protection against threats overseas, always faithful.” The couple performed their courtesies to the King again and the monarch nodded and dismissed them satisfied. As they went away Brienne sighed in relief, the worst was behind them. Now it was time to take care of their other problem. She let Hyle lead her to the rest of the noble Stormlanders and they began to converse.

Brienne could only stand that for so long until she gave her excuses and retired for the night, leaving her husband in the ballroom to converse and make merry.

  


  


Jaime was walking to the courtyard. The corridors and alleys leading to the courtyard were nearly deserted as most noblemen and servants were around the ballroom. Jaime had been replaced in his duties by Ser Barristan and he decided to train a little since he couldn’t be with Cersei.

He felt deeply bored. His days were always the same, caught between guard shifts and training. The only highlights were his trysts with his sweet sister but they were rare. Hence he felt that he was walking in the dark, with only a few occasions to reach the surface only to be grabbed under again. So he trained in his free time, refining his already masterful knowledge of sword fighting. Frustration gave him an edge and he felt that he got as good a swordsman as he could be. Only this morning he had bested Ser Barristan twice and had even gotten a begrudging nod of recognition. It was the best he would get from Old Ser he knew.

He had sated his bloodlust this morning but another day of watching after the fat king and see Cersei glide around him brought it up again. He would give his white cloak to fight a good adversary right now. He stopped for a second having heard something near him. After a moment a smile appeared on his face. Sounds of a sword battering a dummy were filling the hot air. Jaime was excited. Surely the person training in the courtyard wouldn’t mind a partner. 

When he entered the yard, he was surprised. It was not a squire as he had thought but an unknown knight. Watching the golden armor, he didn’t see any sigil or any sign of allegiance. Still, there was something he could see. This knight’s swordplay was decent, he would even say ‘good’ but that could only be determined in a fight. Under pressure, a knight could shine or make some atrocious mistakes. He could even admit that his footwork was precise even if he was a tall man. He was not as big as the mountain, no one could be, but he looked close to his own size and his body was bigger. Watching the sad state of the wooden dummy, its straw pouring down due to its numerous ‘wounds’, he knew that the stranger may give him a good fight. He was not really worried that he didn’t know him. If the man had wanted to assassinate the King, he would have been found near the Ballroom. 

Jaime smiled viciously. It was perfect really. It seemed that the man would make a great opponent. And no influential family will be offended if he beat the stuffing out of him. Time to get his much-desired fight. “Ser knight?” he interrupted with a friendly smile. The tall man stopped slashing the dummy to pieces and turned. Seeing him, he then took a step back and put his sword back in his scabbard. Jaime grimaced, he was too famous and some were too craven to fight him. He needed an outlet, he will not let the man run away so easily. It will be a quick fight but Jaime will enjoy it nonetheless.

As the knight approached the entrance to leave Jaime put himself on his way. “Ser, there is no reason to go now. From the dummy’s appearance, I would say that you are craving a good fight and so am I. What say you, Ser…” Jaime trailed off waiting for an introduction that never came. The knight stayed as silent as a tomb. 

Jaime frowned. “Aren’t you a stoic one. Is your tongue missing?” When that got no answer either, Jaime shrugged. It was of no importance. He just needed this man to be willing to be beaten up, that he wouldn’t prattle would be an asset.

“Very well, Ser Silent. Are you at least willing to fight me? Not many dare to but you seem eager and apt to the task. I promise to be kind and not trounce you in the first seconds of our encounter.” The provocation was deliberate. Even if the man was scared of the Kingslayer, he wouldn’t let such an insult go unpunished. 

The knight didn’t charge him in anger. He just calmly strode to the middle of the courtyard and took his sword out of his scabbard. Nothing in his attitude indicated fear and Jaime grinned in pleasure as he rejoined his opponent in the middle of the training ground. Jaime took out his own sword out of his sheath making the steel sing.

“Let’s fight, Ser Silent,” Jamie said with a smirk and they both crouched a little, swords at the ready. Circling each other, they began with slow passes to test the other. Their swords met and steel sang with the song of battle. They were both moving fluidly, mirroring each other. Then Jaime got impatient, his blood was boiling with the need to fight so he swung hard, trying to get his opponent right side. The blow was countered by the other’s sword, a firm thrust which made the muscles in both their arms bulge and contract. Jaime broke away and he began to press the other all around the courtyard. He preferred offense and let the other knight have as little time as possible to attack. _It will be quick_ thought Jaime. 

After a few minutes, assurance gave way to incredulity. His opponent was strong. Each blow made his sword vibrate and he felt them in his bones. He was also calm and focused. Jaime had tried to infuriate him with the worse insults he knew. ‘Lickspittle’ and ‘cullion’ had been the kindest of the lot. The knight didn’t even react. Just waited for him silently. It was eerie. He never rushed nor gave way to anger. He had stamina and the blows kept coming with the same intensity. Jaime couldn’t remember the last fight he had with an anonymous knight where he didn’t win in a few minutes. However, he did have flaws. He was very obvious in his movements. And he didn’t seem to know as many moves as he did. Probably due to a lack of experience. Jaime will use that. 

He rushed the silent knight, making signs that he would strike right only to charge head-on when the knight moved his sword aside. They both fell, the sound of smashing steel very loud in the otherwise silent night. The silent knight let out a startled cry too and Jaime frowned. He was so busy trying to understand what was bothering him that the person on the ground pushed him away with a grunt. As he fell on the ground, the blonde man’s eyes widened. The cry had come from a deep voice, but it had still been a _feminine_ voice. 

He shook himself for the fight was not done. The woman had already gotten up and was coming his way _by the Warrior, this woman was fast_ so he waited on the ground. When the knight was close enough _but not close enough to be kicked_ Jaime exclaimed, “Wait!” His opponent jumped, startled. Jaime reached out with his hand. “Would you be kind and help me up, Ser Silent? I am not so young anymore and I fear that I pulled a muscle when we fell?” The standing knight appraised him for a moment then put his sword in his scabbard. He then gripped Jaime’s hand and helped him up without any sign of difficulty. “Thank you, Ser Knight, you are really too kind.” Jaime gasped and bowed his back, still feigning pain, crowding the other who took a step back. Jaime used that moment to throw himself at the other again, falling down on the other with all his weight. The other was surprised and let out an annoyed yell. It again sounded like a woman’s voice. Taking a dagger and putting it on the giant’s neck, he snarled, “Yield!” As she growled, a positively menacing sound, he dug a little deeper. “The fight is not over until somebody yields. You should know that.” He saw her meaty hands clench into fists. He was getting ready for a brawl when she used one of her fists to tap forcefully on the ground.

Jaime concealed to smile. She was a quick learner. “Say it! Say that you yield out loud, my Lady.” As the hidden woman gasped, he gripped her helmet and threw it away. 

She looked outraged, which didn’t make look any better for saying that she was plain was generous. Even in the dark courtyard and its stark shadows he could see that she was ugly. She had large chapped lips and he could distinguish her big teeth. She had freckles everywhere making her face look dirty in the dark. Her limp hair was wet with sweat, hanging pitifully from their roots and spilling into the floor. But her eyes… they were two brilliant jewels of blue, piercing and unique in their shape and color. As he continued to stare at her, she bucked suddenly and sent him rolling over her head. As he laid stunned for she had sent him ‘fully armored’ over her head, she got up and walked to the entrance of the courtyard, snatching her helmet on the way. As he sat on the ground, he saw her look at him with accusing eyes. She finally opened her mouth to talk. 

“I should have known that you would cheat, Kingslayer!” She spat those words with all the disdain she could muster and left the courtyard quickly, not even glancing back once. 

Jaime got up and stood there for a long time after their encounter, thoughtful. He should be angry at this wench. Not everybody called him Kingslayer to his face and lived afterwards. Curiously, he wasn’t angry. No, he was intrigued. Finally, something new happened in his life. Something different, something interesting. A swordswoman, a swordswench more precisely. And she had made him work for his victory. The fact that she protested his methods showed her lack of experience and maturity. For any knight worth his salt knew that everything was permitted to win. Still, it ranked. To see her blue eyes turn icy because he ‘cheated’. It perturbed him and nothing had really perturbed him for a long time, not after he saw butchered babies and children wrapped in red sheets and presented as a gage of loyalty. Not after so many people burned in front of his eyes. He watched the entrance of the courtyard thoughtfully. 

He should leave her alone, with her prejudices and her biased view of the world. But he knew that he wouldn’t. He wanted another fight with the wench. He wanted to know more. He was hooked and would follow his prey. She would entertain him if she wanted to or not.


	2. The reluctant mouse to His Lion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so began the chase, around and around until predator and prey meet directly. Still, the prey is as stubborn as her hunter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, people. I will say the truth. This chapter drained me. lol Jaime and Brienne just didn't want the chapter to end. I'm posting it and I don't want to write another word for a week. (which is a lie, I will surely continue after a good night sleep lol). Still, i enjoyed crafting this tale, its cover and its chapter dividers ^^ sighhhhhhh I love to make it pretty.
> 
> Thanks to JailynnW for her neverending support. I love her stories to pieces and if you have time, go read them and enjoy them. She is the queen of UST. Seriously, in every story she does Brienne and Jaime are near exploding with it. lol If it's your jam, go for it right now...read my chapter first please through lol
> 
> Thanks to everyone who commented and reviewed this baby of mine. It doesn't get a lot of love but I promise that chapter 5 is EPICCCCC... I just have to get there first lol
> 
> GOT is not mine (duh!) and not D&D anymore either AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

  


  


  


  


Brienne was sweating in the ballroom. The sun was shining hot and bright and it wasn’t noon yet. Brienne missed her castle by the sea, with its winds and the taste of saltwater in the air. But instead of Tarth’s beautiful landscape, she was surrounded by courtiers and noblemen in the Red Keep. She would have trained a little in the morn to distract herself but she didn’t dare go to the training yard again after what happened the other night.

She had gone to train in full armor to avoid recognition. She had been so careful, had used the cover of the celebration’s festivities to go to the castle’s training yard. She had been so sure of being the only one there that she had forgotten the time. She had worked on her forms to her heart’s content. She had finally felt herself relax when _he_ had appeared. And again, she took the wrong decision. She generally never rose to provocation. It was much more satisfying to stay calm and make her opponents bite the dust. To see them taste the arid flavor of defeat was as potent as the richest wine. She had reacted this time. Hearing the Kingslayer talk so highly of his capacities, when he could hardly call himself a knight, had annoyed her. She had been full of pride and the following fall was a deserved punishment. 

He had seen _her_. He had seen her face. She had never expected him to take off her helmet. Why would he care about a simple knight’s appearance? She had stayed mostly silent and could have easily passed for a man with her full armor. Still, he had seen her and the little respite she had obtained with her training was drowned with anxiety.

Indeed, she generally didn’t care about anyone knowing that she trained with swords, but it hardly counted on an island that she owned. It could count here. And it could ruin her prospects. Not for herself, but for her husband. Hyle didn’t enjoy life at Evenfall Hall. To be more exact, he relished the privileges attached to the title but not the numerous obligations. Life on Tarth was mostly calm and boring and her husband was sick of it. 

She could understand. She had been sick of it too at one point. She had wished with every breath to be a knight. To go away and live an exciting life. Now, her husband was a former hedge knight and he wished for a grand life. While Brienne wanted to be a knight to protect the innocent and respect the ideal of knighthood, Hyle yearned for glory and riches and a reputation made in battle. 

She had learned after her wedding to curb those impulses. She had learned to love taking care of her castle and her people. Since her father died, she had to step up and take responsibility for all those under the late Evenstar’s authority. From the oldest man to the newest babe, from the barely sprouted blade of grass to the imposing mountain dominating her island. She had cherished her island before, but now her love was reinforced by the practice of nurturing those entities under her power. Now she understood what caring for them all meant. And those of Tarth’s blood never forsook their duty. She contented herself with sword training every morn then reclaimed her role as the Evenstar. It was her mantle. A Lady’s duty. 

Then, the King’s invitation had arrived. That same night, Hyle had revealed his intention to search for a liege lord and pledge himself as a knight. “The one thing I could bring to my Lady wife and our domain is glory and riches. Both could help in times of need.” She hadn’t refuted his arguments and had agreed to his demand. She had then gone to her room and let go of her tears of frustration at being denied the same right. She didn’t mind him going _life may become easier after his departure_ but him getting a chance at being a knight when she was denied the same opportunity rankled.

Still, she wouldn’t be so craven as to not help her husband in his quest and promised to help him find a liege while in King’s Landing. She was not so petty as to deny him the joy of working as a knight just because she couldn’t be one herself. Not being allowed to use her life as she wished had dimmed her spirit and she refused to do that to someone else. Which meant appearing at Court and talk. She dreaded that task with a passion. While her husband could be charming and engaging, she was often left tongue-tied and gauche in the presence of strangers. Her shyness and the certitude that everybody was surely mocking her made her stumble and stutter until she would finally stay silent. It took all of her husband’s encouragement to be bolder and less caring about the mocking tongues. Still, she had the title and the blood. Her presence was necessary to breach the gap between him and the caste of nobles. A Lady of lower nobility was still highborn.

Only the presence of the other Lords from the Stormlands made the experience less painful. She knew those noblemen. She saw them at every harvest where they discussed problems of land, labor, and weather. They were, for most, uncomplicated and unceremonious people. They had loved her father and knew her now enough to listen to her opinions when she had some. When they saw that she was one of them, hardworking and fair, they had welcomed her in their midst. She was not as loved as her father but she was respected and it was enough for her. 

So she had foreseen that her time at Court would be unpleasant and had counted on doing some covert training to soothe her mind. Instead, she had been discovered on the night of her arrival and felt anxiety course in her blood. She was afraid of meeting the dishonorable knight again. She was distraught at the idea of him telling everyone about their encounter. Her recklessness may have cost her husband his coveted charge. She had run away after their fight, fury clouding her good sense. In her anger, she had forgotten to ask him to keep their encounter to himself. Brienne was so distressed over this unfortunate event that even Renly’s presence by her side hardly soothed her spirit.

“I did not see you in the courtyard this morn, my Lady,” said Renly in mock sadness. “I needed a good fight but good candidates were sadly lacking.”

“I apologize, Lord Renly,” she replied in kind, “but I cannot help you at this moment.” When Renly raised an eyebrow in question, she sighed, “My husband wishes to pledge himself as a knight. I do not wish to hurt his prospects by acting in a way that would seem scandalous in Court.” She nodded at the courtiers around them. “I swore to help him in any way I can. The Stormlands’ lords know him and refuse to take him into their services.” She sighed in dismay.

“I would refuse too,” said Renly with a nod, “You are infinitely better than him. How many proposed to take you in their service instead?” he asked with a mischievous smile.

Brienne sent him an exasperated look then murmured, “Three.” Renly laughed loudly in answer. “My Lord,” Brienne pleaded, “not so loud if you please. I do not wish to embarrass my husband and he would be if he knew what I just told you in confidence.”

“Then he better improve, for he is at best passable at the art of the sword.” Looking at her dejected face, Renly rolled his eyes, “I will look around for him if it gives you joy, my Lady.” Brienne bowed her head, “Thank you, my Lord,” she said with relief, “it would help me greatly.”

Suddenly, a musical laugh cut their discussion. The Queen passed by them with a fluttering group of Ladies, all tittering and giggling and gliding with grace over the floor. Brienne was dazzled by their elegance and the blur of perfumes and colors blending together. Brienne was not impressed by this kind of women in general. Their beautiful expression tended to sour when they looked at her and all their delicate kindness disappeared for those few seconds. She knew most of them to be artificial creatures. Still, they made for a pretty picture she supposed. 

“My brother should find another queen,” Renly’s voice made her come back to the current conversation. 

“Why is that so, Lord Renly?” asked a puzzled Brienne. “Are they at odds with each other? What did she do to deserve to be rejected?” She was intrigued. For a man to discard his wife, especially a queen, her offenses had to be exceptional.

“They are reigning for more than ten years already and still have no heir. That is the ultimate felony for a queen. To fail in her primal duty.” Renly snorted derisively. “And I know that it’s not Robert’s fault if you consider all the bastards he has running around,” said Renly with a smirk. He inclined his head towards her and said in confidence, “That’s without counting on the Queen’s horrible attitude. Such a poisonous woman I will never meet again.”

Brienne was uneasy and risked a fleeting glance at the Queen standing in the other side of the room. She noted with relief that the Kingslayer was still absent. “It is hard to believe that such a beautiful woman could be so unpleasant,” murmured Brienne while looking at Renly. 

Renly had no such compulsion and guffawed loudly, “I cherish every day I can avoid her presence, my Lady.” Brienne could not contain a little smile in the face of Renly’s mirth, even ill-spirited. It was stronger than her. For a long time, she had dreamed of Renly and had wished to marry him. The dream was gone but the remains of her affection for him still burned lightly in her heart. 

“Whose woman do you wish to avoid, Renly? I thought that you evaded every woman on principle.” A detestable voice made itself known and Brienne blanched, unwilling to turn. Renly himself looked at the owner of the question with neither fear nor anger. 

“Why, Jaime Lannister, I was talking about a relative of mine. A dreadful woman. I was regaling Brienne with stories of her wickedness.” Brienne looked at Renly with big eyes, stunned by his words. He didn’t even deny. Renly smiled at her, “You do remember Selyse, don’t you Lady Brienne?” Brienne's relief was great. 

“She is not that dreadful, Lord Renly,” she muttered, still in shock from the golden-haired man’s presence. A man who was looking at her as intensely as she tried to ignore him. She was not ready to confront him yet.

“Pa! Since she began to worship R’hllor, there is nothing in her brain but fires and heretics,” Renly mock-shivered and pouted. “It makes for dreadful diners when I visit Stannis.”

“I concur on this subject. Stannis is rigorously dull. He and his wife are perfectly matched on that point. Every time I receive an invitation, I curse my rotten luck,” Jaime snarked without any shame.

As a practiced courtier, Renly agreed with a booming laugh at his brother's description. It also helped that the black-haired man was genuinely not offended on his brother’s behalf. Brienne felt dizzy from their exchanges of mean-spirited gossip. She refused to participate as she knew personally how hurtful it can be. Brienne took a step back to bow out of the conversation when the Kingslayer’s sharp gaze fell naturally on her face.

“And who is your companion, Renly? You are painfully remiss in your duties for not introducing us. As such, the ‘Lady’,” his tone and laughing eyes perfectly conveyed what he thought of her status, “cannot participate.” Brienne bristled and cut Renly before he could answer.

“The ‘Lady’ has no wish to participate, my Lord. I will gladly let you converse while I seek other partners to discuss with.” She bowed her head respectfully to her liege then threw a quick perfunctory nod at the other man. She then turned to leave when the Kingslayer put himself on her path, all the while sporting a wicked smile.

“That will not do. I ‘insist’ ” _his voice had an edge which made her skin prickle_ “on meeting you properly, my Lady. For I think it is the second time that we are in each other's vicinity and we still do not know each other’s name.” His smile was positively evil and Brienne blanched. Would he reveal their encounter out loud? She trembled at the thought and froze, uncertain of what she could do. 

Renly, may the Gods bless him, saved her, “No need to be so forceful, Jaime.” Renly smiled at Brienne, “my friend is the Lady Brienne of Tarth.” She curtseyed in accordance. The blond man’s mouth twitched but didn’t mention the fact that her curtsey was less than picture-perfect, Brienne thanked the Seven for this little kindness. She pursued her lips and prayed the Seven for deliverance. Renly continued in a bored voice, “Ser Jaime Lannister of Casterly Rock, and my good-brother for my shame.”

“And mine,” retorted Jaime unperturbed. He took Brienne’s hand in his and kissed the bruised knuckles delicately. His manners would have been irreproachable if not for the wide smirk on his face. “I’m delighted to meet you, Lady Brienne.” He swiped his thumb on her knuckles and she took her hand back quickly. Her blush would not go down as easily she knew.

“Likewise, Ser,” she said bluntly. She generally tried to overcome her native shyness and be more talkative, but she had no desire to stay. “My Lords, if you will excuse me,” she bowed and left quickly.

  


  


Jaime had entered the throne room that morn with heightened anticipation. He wasn’t tasked with any guarding duty until the evening. As such, he was free to mingle with the courtiers and find the swordswench who intrigued him so much. His problem was that he didn’t know her identity. He only knew that her accent and her speech indicated a noble descent. He had also observed that her gear had been decent but its simplicity had pointed towards a lower nobility. The members of the great families embellished their armors to the point of silliness sometimes. Hence, you could not miss an important nobleman when he put his armor on. He also hoped that she would attend this assembly.

He was still wondering how to find the girl when he remembered piercing blue eyes scorching him. It had happened when the Stormlanders had greeted the King. Only Cersei pressing her shoulder on his leg had distracted him. The view of her nearly spilling breasts from his perch above her had made him forget the encounter totally. 

This morn, he only had to search for a tall blond woman surrounded by Stormlands’ noblemen to find her. He had noticed her quickly enough, standing near Renly Baratheon. He had quickly made his way to them and now she was already gone again. Jaime smiled. If she believed that running away will dissuade him to seek her… The more she tried to evade him, the more meddlesome he became.

“Jaime, you made her run away!” Renly pouted. “Not that I blame her. You are insufferable!” As always, Renly’s indignation was all artful mummery so Jaime wasn’t worried about the vain man’s protestations.

“Where did you find this singular woman, Renly?” asked Jaime as Brienne strode away and joined another group of Stormlands’ nobles. She was very careful to put her back to them but even if her dress was plain, her height made her hard to miss. He frowned when an average brown man stood improperly close to her. “She plays the virtuous Lady in front of me but let this man indecently close. Who is insufferable?”

Renly snorted, “Lady Brienne _is_ as honorable as the knights of old. As implacable as Old Barristan. This man is her husband. Lord Hyle of Tarth.”

Jaime observed the woman. She was talking seriously with Ser Lomas Estermont and Arstan Selmy. Her husband was curiously silent, looking extremely bored. On the other hand, the other two men seemed interested in what she had to say and answered with effusion. “Her husband seems like a dimwit, but kind enough if he lets her talk at length to other nobles.” 

Renly tittered, “I would like to see him try to restrain her in any way. That would be more exciting than this boorish party.” Renly’s hand encompassed the whole room. “Lord Hyle was a hedge knight before their wedding. The title comes from her. As such, she is more versed in the care of their island. She takes care of those subjects until he grows into his mantle. I know for I see her at every harvest with all the other lords of the Stormlands.” He sniffed in distaste. “He only desires to be pledged as a knight to one of the great Houses. He is a fame-hound, pleasant enough to be around but with no real substance,” he said while admiring the glistening rings adorning his fingers.

_I could say the same about you,_ thought an amused Jaime. _At least you can spout interesting gossip when you arrive._ Jaime squinted his eyes in thought. _It may be a good thing for once, for you may give me some information on the wench without me having to inquire about her._ He only had to be an attentive listener and Renly will do the rest. In fact, he didn’t have to wait at all.

“How did you two meet?” Renly’s curiosity was insatiable. “Her reaction showed that the encounter was not to her liking.” Renly looked at him from his hair to his boots with an amused air. “How did you get her to dislike you so ardently after one meeting?” His smile widened further, “Aren’t the women generally running towards you after one glance?”

Jaime startled. He hadn’t thought about it. It was true. Women generally fell under his spell fairly quickly while this ugly creature actually run away from him twice… and they had met twice. How singular. How alluring. He shook his head and looked at Renly who was still watching him avidly, waiting for his answer.

“I met her in the training yard.” The black-haired man didn’t seem surprised. Renly only frowned after hearing his reply. More and more curious.

“It cannot be. She just told me that she would not frequent the training yards while she stayed at Court.”

Jaime’s interest grew again, “Why wouldn’t she?”

He couldn’t wait for the answer. Why would she refuse to visit the training grounds when she was obviously a skilled fighter. He had watched her drills. She _loved_ it. He knew that about her and he hardly knew anything about her. It had been even more blatant when they had fought. The song of steel coursed in her blood as wildly as in his. 

Renly rolled his eyes, “I told you already. She came here in part to help her husband find employment.” The blue-eyed man smiled his most engaging smile and Jaime looked at him, waiting for the outrageous demand he _knew_ his good-brother would make. “Aren’t you in need of new blood, Jaime? To protect the gold of Casterly?”

“No,” Jaime returned the obsequious smile and Renly pouted.

“Pa! So cruel! He has a lot to offer!” 

“Why aren’t you taking what he has to offer then? Aren’t you Tarth’s liege lord?” Jaime retorted and Renly glanced to the side, not meeting his eyes anymore.

“That bad,” Jaime nodded and glanced at the aforementioned knight. He was trying badly to smother a yawn as his companions still debated energetically on whatever issue they had. He noted that the wench was as fierce as the others. He snorted with amusement, “I would rather employ his wife. She seemed competent enough.” The black-haired man’s eyes squinted with suppressed laughter. “What?” asked Jaime, smelling a good story underneath. 

“You are the fourth man who said that.” Jaime blinked and they both burst in laughter at the hilarity of the situation.

  


  


After their confrontation in the ballroom, Brienne couldn’t help but be aware of the Kingslayer’s presence. He was often on duty when there was a banquet or an assembly. She had believed herself safe but she could feel his gaze on her many a time. She had a keen sense for those who looked at her, used as she was to be mocked. She generally turned and fixed the offender pointedly until they stopped. Her stature put the offenders off and they would turn away. It always felt like a small victory to her.

It didn’t work with the Kingslayer. It was disconcerting to feel a pointed gaze and look into his eyes. A pair of serious, and especially never mocking, eyes. He also never backed down. She found herself turning away, unsure and uneasy beneath his focus. The few times he broke eye contact first was when the Queen requested his attention. Then, she would be released from his trap but it wouldn’t feel like a victory. Just a respite until she got caught again. 

Sometimes, he would join groups she was talking with and proceeded to antagonise her. He would never mock her or disrespect her overtly but he would argue with her on every subject possible. He would profess ridiculous ideas that would drive her mad and she had to respond. It was even more maddening that he was prompt to find strangely good arguments for his case. If the group talked about military matters, he was a font of knowledge and she grudgingly had to concede on many points. The victorious smile he sported on these occasions made her snort. He would only smile more.

The only time she went to the training yard to see her husband duel and provide some mental support, the blond man stood in her direct line of sight and proceeded to smirk and look pointedly at her husband. It made her flush in anger and glower at him instead of ignoring him as always. On the positive side, she overpraised her husband when he finished _instead of criticizing his technique and thinking in her mind that she was much better_ and he glowed in pleasure. It hardly mattered that she didn’t remember a lot from his fight because she spent her time glaring at the Lannister. At least somebody was happy she figured.

If seeing him at Court was expected and stressing, she didn’t expect to meet him so much outside of it. Between his duties and his training, she had thought that avoiding the training yards would bring her some peace. The mornings she spent in the capital to take care of her affairs were also supposed to give her some breathing room.

It seemed that the enormous capital was still too little for two tall fighters like the Lannister and her, for she saw him more than she ever should outside the castle’s walls. One of these encounters happened while she bought a meat-pie at her favorite stand. He had proceeded to sit at her table and eat his own pie. She had barely begun to eat hers and it was her table so she stubbornly sat there and glared. When he finished, he stood up and thanked her for the marvelous conversation _she hadn’t said a word_ and left her. She figured that she should maybe dress differently and took to wear her usual breeches, roughspun tunic and cloak. It may have made her feel more comfortable but it didn’t spare her from his company, as she discovered in Master Mott’s forge.

  


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Brienne of Tarth wasn’t a woman who indulged in trinkets. She was too practical and thrifty to do that. But she did commission a pair of daggers from Tobho Mott. She had heard of him from Renly who had praised his work on his armor. Entering the establishment and seeing the weapons displayed on the wall had soon confirmed that the praise hadn’t been in vain. The man’s fare was of the highest quality, the swords perfectly balanced and made with the best steel. She had admired his work and the different tinted pieces of armor he had on display. While she believed it vain and frivolous, it was a mark of the man’s mastery of his craft. The prices had made her wince but she did request a pair of daggers _made of spring steel, simple hilt, no decorations but a sun and stars etched on the hilt_ and was told to come back two days later. 

When she came back to the forge, the daggers were ready as promised. She asked to check them both to assess their quality. The Master nodded in approval and led her to his backyard where straw dummies were standing in a row. She nodded her thanks and took one dagger from its sheath. She did her usual assessment. She checked that all parts were fused tight together, then made the steel ring. The beautiful sound made her smile and the forger laugh.

“I do not recall meeting a woman who knows her steel as well as you do, my Lady,” he exclaimed while she bent the blade slightly to check for hardness and temperance. “You should definitively take a look at the swords I create. I am sure I could create a beautiful sword for you, my Lady. Do you have a weapon of choice?”

“I work best with a longsword or a morningstar, Master Mott,” she said while moving the dagger in the air in a series of short thrusts and parries. She nodded and went to the dummy to test the dagger on it. 

“Why! A bollock dagger! That’s an interesting choice for a Lady,” said the now sadly familiar voice of the Kingslayer. Brienne’s body tensed and she couldn’t control the blush rising on her cheeks. She turned and saw him standing near Master Mott.

The armorer’s reaction shocked her. “Ser Jaime! I’m so glad to see you! How are the new gauntlets? Had your range of movement improved?” He looked genuinely happy to see him, slapping the blond’s man upper arms with his big hands and making him grin. “You do not care about me, Mott. You just want to know if your improvements work!” Jaime laughed loudly. Brienne was quite surprised to see the Lannister in such a merry mood. The other man's reaction was only puzzling her further. The Kingslayer suddenly looked… approachable and human for once. 

“And?” the armorer’s impatience was palpable and Brienne felt curious about these improved gauntlets too. How could someone improve the gauntlets without sacrificing security and range of movement? Was it even possible? She was really interested in the answer but contented herself with testing her second knife. The forger’s work was as good as it could be. The only way these daggers would fail her would be because of the steel of medium-quality and her own mistakes. 

“Do you want to see those gauntlets my Lady?” she whirled around to see the Kingslayer disappear in the forge with Tobho Mott. She bit her lip but followed them quickly.

  


  


Jaime smiled when he heard her light steps follow his. So easy. 

Well, in truth, it hadn’t been that easy. He had paid a page generously to watch her for a sennight and report on her activities. The high price had also paid for his silence. It wouldn’t do for the child to report on his mission. That is how he had crafted the ‘spontaneous’ encounters between them. He had to be careful with them too. He didn’t want Brienne to be suspicious. She didn’t have to, he didn’t intend to hurt her. He couldn’t define what made him so fascinated yet but he felt that he will discover that soon. Then, he could go back to his own affairs. Secondly, he didn’t want Cersei to be suspicious. She was rightfully possessive of him, which he loved, but it could push his sweet sister into hurting the Lady of Tarth and he didn’t want that to happen. So he had used his knowledge with parsimony, only meeting her thrice by ‘intentional accident’.

Now she was following him for once and he enjoyed the role reversal. Her being interested in something attached to him was pleasant. He knew that he had impressed her with his military knowledge once or twice. Here, standing in the middle of weapons of all kinds, they could find a common ground. She joined them to a little table in the corner of the shop. Tobho was taking a pair of gauntlets from a linen pouch that Jaime had brought with him. The gauntlets covered only the back of the hand leaving the gloved fingers free and improving the dexterity of the wearer. 

“How was it to work with them Ser Jaime?” asked Tobho, when Jaime passed the arm protector to Brienne. As she began to turn it around to watch it carefully, Jaime answered.

“It gives me a much better range when I fight. It also permits me to do faster strikes. The lightness of them is a boon in combat. It gave me some precious seconds of advantage in a fight against Ser Barristan.” Brienne put the gauntlet down with a frown, silent.

Jaime was intrigued to know her opinion. “Well, my Lady. What are your thoughts on this new type of gauntlet? I would be glad to hear them.” She pursed her lips for a second, indecisive but when both Tobho and he made slight noises of encouragement, she relented.

“While they are indeed lighter,” he was struck at once by how pleasant her voice was when she was not irritated at him, “and it is a boon when faced with an opponent, I feel that the opponent would try to just cut the unprotected fingers. Could I see the leather gloves mayhaps?” Tobho gave her a pair of leather gloves that she put on and she grimaced. “While I can feel that they have more padding, could you maybe add metal plates or mail between the folds of leather?”

“The point was to be less obstructed and faster, my Lady,” said Jaime with a frown. Tobho, on the other side, scratched his beard in thought.

“I’m sure that losing some fingers will surely make for no obstruction at all, Ser. It will also allow the wearer to meet the Stranger a lot faster,” she replied seriously. 

“These gauntlets represent a risk, but you just need to be faster,” said Jaime arrogantly. “I do not intend to be hit.” 

“You could not know that for sure,” she argued passionately, “and losing fingers is a high price to pay because you didn’t think of all the issues in your arrogance.”

Jaime got closer until they were face-to-face, “I would be fast enough that they would not have time to think of using this weakness.” He didn’t like her lack of faith at his abilities. “I am one of the best swordsmen in the Seven Kingdoms, my Lady. Do not forget that fact.”

Brienne rolled her eyes unimpressed, “I would try to hit your hands first. The second I would see these half-gauntlets, I would go for that weakness. If I can think of that, others will too.”

Tobho cut in their debate before it could get more heated, “May I use your suggestions, my Lady? It is but the first try with this model so it needs improvement. You made some good points. Little steel plates for the back of the fingers may give additional protection.” Brienne stopped staring at Jaime for a second to smile tightly at the Master forger. She joined him at the table.

“Could you color the leather as well, Master Mott. It would be but a poor subterfuge. However, the helmet greatly reduces the knight’s vision and steel-colored gloves may buy some time before the opponent is aware of this weak point.” Tobho scratched his temple and grumbled, “I know a Master Tanner, maybe if I talk…” He walked away still grumbling about little chainmail and tint, leaving a silent Jaime and Brienne near the table.

Jaime was staring at her, fascinated. A lot of knights didn’t care to understand the intricacies of their armor. They took care of their weapons, they yielded them, that’s all. Then, there was _her_. She came and knew enough to see the defaults and even suggest improvements on their initial draft. The idea of coloring the leather gloves for camouflage hadn’t even crossed his mind. 

He wanted more time with her. He needed to sit with her and know her every thought, this unassuming giantess who tried to be invisible but that he couldn’t help but see. She covered herself in shadows but it wouldn’t do. He felt a compulsive need to know what she kept hidden. He sensed that nothing was ordinary with this woman. She suddenly looked at him and he didn’t know what she saw on his face but she cast her eyes down quickly and turned to observe the wall of daggers immediately to her left, her shoulders tense under his inquisitive gaze.

  


\----------------------------------------

  


The conversation they had with Mott made Jaime wish to keep the warm atmosphere between them. It was almost as good as their antagonistic banter. As he struggled to think of a subject that will keep the Lady close, he remembered something he had wanted to tell her. 

“It is quite generous of you to buy daggers for your husband. I do not know a lot of Ladies who would think of such a practical gift,” Jaime said. He felt bitter that Cersei, in all their years together, never thought of giving him a gift like that. A gift to his taste. A gift for his protection. And she knew him from the womb.

Brienne looked at him in puzzlement, “Why would I offer these daggers to Hy…” She cut herself off suddenly and her expression blanked. “Of course, those are for my husband. You are quite right of course.” Jaime squeezed his eyes in thought as she run to another part of the shop to seemingly look at the well-crafted weapons. 

Another contradiction, another time where he had misinterpreted her. He didn’t understand her genuine reaction to his assumption. She was infuriating, to say the least. He never got anything right with her. Actually, the only thing he was sure about was that he irritated her. Well, she did the same so it was well deserved, Jaime thought with a snort while watching her run her fingers on the different tinted armors. 

As she got closer to him, he engaged her again, “So, my Lady. You didn’t answer my inquiry. Why choose such an unladylike weapon?” She frowned at him, hostile and prickly. He relaxed for it was their usual way of communicating and he felt in control again. 

“An unladylike weapon… I do not understand what is so surprising about my choice of weapon, Ser. As you said earlier, it is for my husband.” she said irritated. 

“We both know from your earlier reaction that those are for you, my Lady. I commend you for wanting to defend yourself. Women should expect men to help them in times of need but should ultimately rely on themselves,” he said seriously, the memory of a woman’s screams resonating in his head for a moment. He shook himself of the dark thoughts and continued with a smile, “Well, you chose a _bollock_ dagger, my Lady...” He then trailed off expectantly with a pointed look at her. She frowned, apparently missing the point he wanted to make. He was about to be crude when her blue eyes widened. 

“That is the reason for your ‘unladylike’ commen-” Brienne’s mouth opened too, her large lips forming a round shape. He expected her to huff in outrage. He was ready for her to punch him in the arm for his crude humor, the way Cersei did when she pretended to be offended. 

She did something else. She exploded in peals of laughter. Her laughter made his own eyes widen. First from the shock of her unexpected reaction and then from the pure honest joy in it. This was not a practiced delicate thing. It was loud and honest, unapologetic in its existence. She was still laughing when she looked at him with merry eyes. “Oh, you... that is so silly…” then she guffawed again. She turned, gave a purse to Master Mott with a wide smile and exited the forge, her laughter still heard until the sounds of a horse riding away took the merriness with it. 

Jaime was still standing in the middle of the forge in a daze, when Tobho stood near him and scratched his nose, “Now, that’s a special Lady.” Jaime just absently nodded. Special indeed.

  


  


“Why my Lady! I have to say that armor suits you better than lace,” the honorless man’s voice boomed in the hall as she was walking to her room. She smiled bitterly at the ironic situation. She would have appreciated his words in any other circumstances. Didn’t she think the same? Didn’t she despise the mocking flattery of most of the nobles she met, men and women alike? Still, it came from him, therefore all her good feelings were crushed under the distaste she felt for him. The laughter he had provoked in her at Tobho Mott’s forge had been drowned by his ‘stalking’ manners after she came back. She felt that he was always somewhere in her field of vision, watching her sometimes as if she was an experiment form the Citadel and he a studying maester. She exaggerated but it _felt_ that way. Wariness and stress had come back faster than they had left and they were her constant companions now.

As she turned to look at him, she saw that he was in his Kingsguard armor. The sight of him drawing near made her anxiety rise and she felt her stomach clench unpleasantly. She felt vulnerable without her own armor, thoroughly unprepared to confront him. But looking around and seeing the deserted premises, she told herself that it was the best time to finally put her fears to rest and act like the Lady she was.

She let him approach her calmly, her expression serene and her body at ease. Inside, she was fighting her reflex to run and put as much distance as she could between them. It seemed to embolden him for he crossed the distance between them even faster to plant himself in front of her, a satisfied smile on his face.

“Finally,” he drawled out, “well met, my Lady.” The fact that he didn’t care for her own wishes of avoiding him infuriated her. It infuriated her even more since avoidance was not her preferred strategy. She preferred to fight her battles head-on. The fact that she put herself in such a weak position was going against her own nature and he seemed to mock her for that. All in all, she wasn’t happy to meet him.

“Ser,” she replied blandly, giving him the bare bones of expected courtesy. He raised a sardonic eyebrow but wasn’t thrown out of his course, not even for a moment. 

“Let me provide you with an escort to your chambers, my Lady,” his smile made her want to hurt him badly, “it is late and I couldn’t leave a maiden unprotected and unaccompanied in the deserted corridors of the royal palace.” He gave her his arm. She didn’t take it.

“I thank you for your kindness but it is hardly necessary. I wouldn’t want you to be remiss in your duties, Ser. I am sure that you have important tasks to accomplish. As such, I will be on my-” 

“Nonsense,” he cut her off while herding her by simply taking her arm and looping it around his vambrace. His gauntlet was still on her hand meaning that she had to follow him when he began to walk.

“Ser!” she snarled, incensed at his manners, “I told you-”

“My Lady,” he drawled as he cut her again, earning another growl, “as amusing as it was to see you stumble around blindly in search of your chambers, it would be infinitely more practical to rely on me and my knowledge of the keep.” He smiled his most charming smile while not letting her get out of his grip, “Fear not my Lady, I will bring you to the place your heart yearns to see the most.” She glared at him venomously but her blasted blush was telling of her real feelings. 

He had known she was lost. So embarrassing. The Red Keep was such a maze that she had walked around and gotten into an unknown section of the keep. There had been no servants to direct her and so she had walked and tried to recognize her surroundings when he had arrived. How long did he watch her err? She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she nearly didn’t hear him say, “Here we are.”

Looking up, she saw the training yard. She blanched and recoiled from him. “What is the meaning of this? Ser, you told me that you would steer me true.” He nodded with a satisfied smile.

“I did, my Lady,” he replied, his eyes fixed on her face, “I took you to the place your heart yearns for.” He closed the distance between them and his smile faded. “You cannot tell me that you do not long for it. Since our fight in the training yard-” 

“Never bring me here again, Ser,” she glared at him. “I also demand that you do not refer to our encounter in the courtyard. Ever.” Brienne knew that her tone wasn’t appropriate but being in the courtyard again, after trying so hard to avoid it… Her sword hand clenched involuntarily, the desire to trounce him again overwhelming. 

“Why should I agree to that, seeing the abysmal way you are asking for it?” countered the man, his eyebrows raised arrogantly. Would the Stranger take the man in his embrace! She huffed in irritation. “Is that a way to ask for a favor, my Lady?” Jaime was smiling rather evilly, his eyes clashing with hers. She just glared and passed him quickly, walking away. She heard his steps behind her but they were getting louder instead of fainter. Risking a glance behind her, she saw that he followed her like a motherless duck and she felt irritation swell up in her. “Is it, my Lady?” He nearly sang the words. “I feel cheated. All these hours wasted learning how to deport myself suggested that somebody asking for a favor should-”

“It is not a favor, my Lord. Only a simple request to forget a rather dull encounter,” said Brienne through her teeth, still trying to escape his presence. It was in vain. He was as unshakable as the plague.

“It is something you need from me, of course it is a favor,” replied Jaime with a smile, easily keeping up with her fast pace. 

Brienne gritted her teeth. Of course, he would do that. Make an obligation of such a tiny request. Shape it into a debt. She knew about the Lannisters and their debts. Even if she foolishly agreed, she would never let herself be indebted to ‘him’, the Kingslayer. 

Brienne stopped abruptly and whirled around. It nearly put her nose to nose with him as he had stopped just behind her. If she hoped that he would feel nervous with her looming over him, she was disappointed. He just raised his face a little to look into her eyes, a foolish smirk stretching his lips. Nothing in his face showed fear.

“Very well, do as you wish,” she gave him her back and strode away with all the dignity she could muster.  
She will tell her husband about what happened and promise to find another way. Maybe Braavos would fill his cup with adventures enough for him to be satisfied. 

“My Lady of Tarth!” The sound of his voice pierced the cloud of anger and worry enveloping her. She stopped abruptly. His tone was forceful in a way she hadn’t heard before. It forced her to stop and to mind him. After a long pause, she turned her head to the side to indicate that he had her attention.

“I offer you a bargain,” said Jaime, his voice was nonchalant but the eyes fixed on her were intense, “something you need for something I want. A profitable exchange for us both. What says you, Lady Brienne? After all, you asked for my silence. I demand but a trifle in compensation.” 

She turned completely, “How do I know that what you offer is something I really need?”

“Believe me, my Lady, I have heard from credible sources that you have an absolute need of what I can provide.” He approached her with assurance, absolutely confident in his offer.

Wasn’t it what the wood witches offered the poor fools naive enough to agree before they devoured their spirits? Brienne shivered in premonition. She knew deep inside that it was not a good idea. She still nodded and sealed her fate.

“What are your terms, Ser?”

  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope it was fun to read. The bitch fest between Jaime and Renly was fun to write. lol
> 
> Note: the daggers Brienne buy are real medieval daggers and they were really called bollock daggers. Because they had two balls on the hilt in the shape of... a man bollocks. I could see Jaime finding this hilarious. ^^
> 
> Well, what do you think? 
> 
> Remember folks, don't read and run! Let me know what you think so I can improve myself and the story. ^^

**Author's Note:**

> Welllll, please put the pitchforks down please my good fellows and remember that the tag says Jaime/Brienne lol


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